Breathless
by b-mystique
Summary: Post S5 premiere. "He stumbled into a stall and fell to his knees. The smell of the toilet water made his stomach lurch. He squeezed his eyes shut, tears running down his face, resigned to the fact that he would have to ride this one out. "Hold your breath,"Jessica commanded. "Harvey, you have to hold your breath for me." Anxiety/Panic attack trigger.


A/N: *waves* Reviews are welcome. Or not. Totally up to you.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Anxiety/Panic attack triggers.

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The walls seemed as if they were closing in on him as he clawed his way down the hallway and shoved the door to the men's room open. The only sense of relief he felt was that of knowing that it was well after hours and with the exception of the late night cleaning staff he was most likely alone. He bowed in front of the closest sink, his hands gripping the edges of the counter so hard that his knuckles were white. He threw his head back, trying with everything in him to gulp as much air as he could muster, but his breathing was fast and erratic and nothing stopped the feeling of a two ton weight resting heavily on his chest. He loosened his tie and unbuttoned his shirt, his eyes boring into his own reflection in the mirror as he tried to force himself to slowly inhale and exhale. His face was sweaty; his eyes practically bulging out of his head, and his wild appearance did nothing to quell the rapid beating of his heart and feeling as if he were drowning.

He stumbled into a stall and fell on his knees before the porcelain basin. The smell of the toilet water was enough to make his stomach lurch, but after long minutes spent dry heaving, nothing came out. He squeezed his eyes shut, tears running down his face, resigned to the fact that he would have to ride the attack out while he tried to convince himself that he wasn't in fact dying or drowning. He wretched the stall door open, clutching at his stomach as he stumbled back to the sink, and splashed water on his face.

He clawed at his neck again, as if to remove layers that were stripped long ago. His skin was clammy, sweat soaked through the undershirt he wore. He slid down the wall near the sink until he unceremoniously slumped on the floor, and only then was he aware of the warmth radiating from the person beside him. It was as if knowing that she was there, bearing witness to him being so weak…no, vulnerable, was enough to exasperate the attack even further. Rapid, short breaths escaped from his lips as he tried to suck in as much air as possible and failed miserably.

She seemed to be coming closer to him, scooting next to him on the cold tile, unfazed by the fact that she was sitting on a dirty men's room floor, in a skirt that by itself probably cost more than some intern's paycheck. She pressed her body close to his, tentative at first, than more firmly when she sensed that he wouldn't pull away. Her legs were pressed against his legs, side pressed his side, and their shoulders were touching. She reached out to take his hand in hers, not minding that he went from a loose hold to a fierce grip, the second their eyes met. Somewhere deep down he knew he'd have wanted to avert his gaze but he was in too much discomfort to register the embarrassment.

"Hold your breath," Jessica commanded quietly. While he was used to her speaking to him as though he were an insubordinate child who grated her nerves, that was the first time he heard speak so carefully to him, like he was a frightened kid she didn't want to startle. Her voice was soothing as she demanded once again that he hold his breath and nodded in encouragement, her eyes never breaking away from his.

He shook his head, as he tried to regulate his breathing. Tears of frustration and mortification prickled at the back of his eyelids, as he still struggled to get himself under control. His head fell back against the wall with a thud, and he felt her squeeze his hand.

"Harvey, you have to hold your breath for me," she repeated firmly. He waved her away; as he struggled to gain control over the parts of his body that he had lost all control of. It was as if he knew what she was saying, and that he should probably follow orders, but he couldn't get his brain to listen.

"Goddamit Harvey!" she growled, that time she sounded like her usual self. He wondered if that was her latest tactic or just her slipping in the end. He rocked back and forth as his chest continued to feel tight and constricted and the air he was inhaling and exhaling didn't feel like nearly enough.

Her hands on his face startled him. She gripped the sides of his face and turned his head towards her, and before he knew it, her lips were firmly pressed against his. It was simple, and chaste. There was no pushing for anything more. He instinctively brought his hands to her face and held her there as they both slowly pulled away. There was no judgment in her expression, and fortunately no pity either, but she did smirk when his eyes widened when it dawned on him that he was no longer plagued with the feeling of drowning. His breathing was noticeably slowing down and slowly but surely that feeling as if he were trying to breathe through a thick wet towel was starting to dissipate.

"Breathe with me," she said quietly. This time he nodded with her when she raised her eyebrow at him. "Inhale slowly," she muttered as he followed her lead. "Hold it…and exhale slowly." She repeated it a few times until he got ahold of it himself, then she leaned back against the wall and sighed.

"The first time I had an anxiety attack I felt like I was going to die," Jessica chuckled bitterly.

He raised a brow at her, taking in her relaxed but regal posture, the way she still looked like a lady of grace even when she was sitting cross legged on a grimy floor. Her hair was in disarray from his hands, and she rubbed at the crescent marks that embedded her skin, just above the knuckle from when he gripped her fiercely. He continued his breathing, afraid that the guilt from hurting her would cause him to flare up again. He reached and caught her hand in his, rubbing his thumb along a mark as if he could somehow make it disappear. She squeezed his hand acknowledging his unspoken apology in the gesture.

"It wasn't until it was over that I even realized what had happened. My sister was studying Psychology at the time, so…" She paused and stole a glance at him. He gathered she was checking to make sure he was still breathing. "I was in law school. It was…Well, you know what it's like there. Everything is a competition, it's all intense, and you lose parts of yourself and at times become someone you don't even recognize and even though you come through it in the end, you know that in some ways it can be one of the worst times of…" her voice drifted off again.

"I remember it was the first time I had one there, and it definitely wasn't the last one I'd have. But that feeling of helplessness. That feeling of being weak. I was top of my class, and badass, and yeah, okay, a bitch, I was definitely a bitch sometimes. I mean, you remember the incident with the judge, right? I'm not even sorry. But, I was also this woman who would have an attack when I got cold called in Con Law, or before an oral argument on an immigration issue, or in the middle of typing a sixteen page memo and a brief. I always felt like I had something to prove. I always wondered how I could be so strong but so damn weak. But it's not, Harvey. You're not weak. It's not a sign of weakness.

"So…uhh," she sighed, averting her eyes from his penetrating gaze. "You're not alone. I just want you to know that, and I know…I know how important it is to hear that sometimes even though…even though you'd never ask."

She cleared her throat and busied herself by using her long reach to grab a towel from the dispenser and wetting it at the sink. "You could have told me, Harvey." She raised a brow at him as she used the towel to dab away at the sheen coating his face and neck.

He had finally gotten himself under control, and found that he was at risk of losing it in a whole different way at Jessica "momming" him while trying not to come across that way. She had schooled her expression to appear as if she was nonplussed by the whole ordeal, but he could tell by her concerned eyes and the set of her mouth that she was worried about him. He bit back a chuckle, trying to hide his amusement. He knew she caught on when she smacked him in the face with the towel.

"So when was the last time for you?" He studied her face during the long pause she took to figure out if and how she should respond. She was an enigma to him most of the time, but she had her transparent moments, and he could tell that she was torn between confiding in him and shutting him out in that way that she typically shut out most people. He refused to release her of his fierce gaze, as he set his jaw stubbornly and waited for her to give in. She had a way of giving in to him and he tried really hard to not take advantage of that too much, but he'd make an exception at the moment.

"A couple of weeks ago," she finally answered, her tone clipped. "I…"

He held his breath when he caught a glimpse of the shimmer in her eyes, before she cleared her throat and dropped her head a little, causing a curtain of dark hair to shield her face from him.

"Jess…" he prompted, as he reached out and tucked hair behind her ear. He relaxed some when he noticed that the small gesture at least made her lips turn up in a tiny smile.

"I told Jeff that I loved him," she said simply. "And he left anyway. That's…that's on me."

"Jess, no, no it is-"he contested. It was in those moments when he was reminded of just how similar they were.

"Yeah it is, Harvey. It is what it is."

He knew how difficult it was for Jessica to connect to people, and while he didn't know much about her dating life, he suspected that she didn't often find people that she was willing to let her guard down long enough to be that vulnerable with.

"And you and Donna…?" she prompted, even though the look in her eye told him that she knew everything she needed to know to comprehend the mess that was him, Donna, and Louis.

He wouldn't say anything, and breathed a sigh of relief when she took his unspoken cue to drop it.

"We're a fucking mess." She sighed, as she played with a pendant around her neck.

"That we are." He agreed.

You should see someone. I know of a few therapists, and you don't even have to-"

"Already done." He responded. He wanted to get a good look at her when she realized that he, Harvey Specter, voluntarily went to a therapist without her forcing his hand or manipulating him into doing it.

"You're shitting me?!" she practically shrieked. " _You_ , went to see a therapist?! _You?_! Without anyone forcing you to? Get the hell out of here!" she was mostly jesting with him but the relief and the pride in her voice couldn't be suppressed.

"I shit you not, "he quipped with his signature smirk. "Do I get a prize for taking initiative?"

She snorted. "What do you want a gold star and an ice cream cone? You're an adult looking after your own self, I don't' need to reward you for that."

"Well, a gold star would be nice. Though I'd settle for a bottle of bourbon."

"I suppose you aren't used to getting rewarded for good behavior since you're so rarely being good. Gold star is better than the usual spanking."

"Hey, spanking isn't a punishment, it's a reward, especially coming from you," he winked.

"You perverted bastard," she laughed uncontrollably, and he grinned feeling accomplished after noting that their easy banter kept that haunted and heartbroken look out of her eye.

"Hey, positive reinforcement is crucial for a productive work environment," he tried to keep a straight face but couldn't help the snicker that came out when he finished the statement.

"Oh, yeah, you definitely are seeing a therapist."

"Not the right one, because her methods involve talking and drugs not kissing.

"It worked didn't it?" she looked at him expectantly. "That was from an acquaintance not a shrink."

"Ohh," his interest was piqued. "Effective method, but I'm sure you decked the guy for laying one on you when it was all said and done."

A sly grin spread across Jessica's face as she leaned in close. "Oh I definitely considered decking _her,"_ she winked at him and laughed when his eyes widened in surprise before he started grinning like an idiot. "She had onion breath."

"Okay, I need more details, and maybe that bourbon. And definitely a couch because my ass has had it with this floor." He jumped up and straightened himself out, picking up his discarded shirt, jacket, and tie before holding out his hand to help hoist Jessica up.

"My office or yours?" she shook her head as she headed towards the exit, and stopped long enough to glance over her shoulder at him.

"Mine, definitely mine this time."

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End file.
